


the heart of a planet

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Action/Adventure, Coulson is a good sidekick, Daisy's heritage, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Inhumans (Marvel), Introspection, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy travels to Asgard on a diplomatic mission, bringing Coulson along, and ends up making some important discoveries about her Inhuman heritage.





	1. Chapter 1

Her head still buzzes from the drink and the party (and the dancing - she’s been dancing with some very energetic warrior ladies, warrior-eses, or something) but by the time they are shown to their room. at the end of a beautiful silver corridor, she is feeling a bit steadier.

Coulson eyes the huge bedroom door suspiciously. Daisy can’t help by being taken in with the carvings, which look ancient and incredibly well preserved at the same time, and like everything else on this planet they give off the sensation of something both familiar and incomprehensible.

“I guess this was to be expected,” Coulson says, narrowing his eyes at an unusually smug (and very, very drunk) Lady Sif. 

Both her and Thor mumble some unintelligible good night and a couple of interesting facts about the “nuptial suite” and Coulson winces but with delay and looking more sleepy than annoyed, and Daisy guesses he is also pretty smashed, just like her, which is somehow comforting. Thor is about to pat her on the back as a form of goodbye but Daisy values her life and dodges, making the alien king laugh.

Between her and Coulson they manage to push the super heavy door and get inside.

Okay, she is still impressed. 

Well, everything in Asgard is impressive - and she just got the Guest of Honor treatment and a party to her name, but this room… damn. It’s like something out of a live action version of an animated movie, but in a good way, not like the Beauty and the Beast version with Hermione. That’s the best description her drunken brain can come up with. Coulson is more verbose:

“Wow,” he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the twinkling lights soft like distant stars over a dark blue that looks as vivid and as _individual_ as a modern art painting. Except, well, the ceiling, the sky inside the ceiling, is moving above their heads.

“Trippy,” she comments. It reminds her of arriving in L.A. and going to the planetarium alone, to fend off loneliness and the bad vibes after aliens attacked New York, to remind herself the universe is beautiful.

She can barely tear her gaze from these stars dancing above and when she does she is staring directly at the most ridiculous bed she’s ever seen.

It’s something that would likewise pry a “wow” out of her if it were something she was seeing on the History Channel. In the flesh - or rather in the wood, hey, her head _is_ buzzing - it goes beyond taking Daisy’s breath away. It’s intensely _alien_ , despite how familiar the techniques and materials look. The frame is made from some kind of rich, oak-ish wood (she knows Asgard doesn’t have earth trees) and every inch of the headboards, the legs, the canopy columns is carved with incredible artistry and details. Daisy suspects there’s a story she can’t follow here, but she notices the scenes dominated by two animals, a hare and something that definitely has no equivalent back home, a kind of large, elegant bison. She wonders if they are supposed to represent the bride and groom. One would think a planet as advanced as this would have done with gender essentialism but talking to some women at the party Daisy discovered it is obviously not so. 

The bed covers are a deep red, with gold thread stitched all over, forming floral patterns. There are two tunics over the covers, one on each side of the bed, some pieces of jewelry to go with them. _Right_ , Daisy remembers. 

Bride and groom. 

She sneaks one glance at Coulson, who seems rooted to the spot, equally mesmerized by the sight in front of him. Daisy hopes this is not going to be _too_ awkward.

As they look at the bed - and on the other hand it’s the hugest bed Daisy has ever seen - the situation dawns on them again.

It’s not their fault, Daisy thinks once more. Perhaps Asgard should hand out brochures to visitors, warning them not to make a toast with a very particular liquor, and not to make it under a very particular thousands-year-old wood canopy, and definitely not to make it at the stroke of midnight on the equinox.

“You know this is not like, legally binding or anything,” she says to Coulson.

At first they both thought Thor - too busy congratulating them to listen to their protests - was winding them up, but everybody seemed to be in on it, and there’s no way so many people would lie to them like that. Even Hogun seemed to believe this was all true, and Hogun wouldn’t lie to her, would he?

“Hey, don’t put it down, it’s my first marriage,” Coulson says, scrunching his face into a pout.

Daisy snorts. More than the drink - though these people are serious about their drinking - it’s the whole being on a different planet.

Even in joking it’s strange to think about the whole accidentally getting married. Not that she ever thought about getting married on purpose, to anyone, not seriously. It’s weird to think she’s married, now, _to Coulson_. But on the other hand… who else she was going to end up accidentally marrying on a diplomatic mission on another planet?

She chuckles again, thinking Coulson is her _husband_ , way trippier than moving stars on the ceiling, and the playful part of her tells her she should be proud, even if she didn’t mean to provoke the situation. From now on she can say she has been married to Phil Coulson, even by accident.

Daisy decides that part of her is the really, really drunken part, and tries to settle. Another voice in her head manages to do it for her in a second: Coulson’s words, how he’s never married before, and how disappointed he must be it’s a joke and it’s Daisy.

“I’m going to get changed,” she says, more sober, taking the ceremonial clothes to the bathroom. 

An ensuite bathroom, hey that’s luxury, she thinks. She rates bathrooms very highly. You would to, if you had spent your whole childhood sharing yours with a dozen other girls.

This is where Asgardian culture stops resembling viking stuff (or the other way around, more like it). The wooden motive is nowhere to be seen in the bathroom, it’s all marble and gold and the unmistakable presence of magic. A scent of morning breeze.

She takes her time, splashing water on her face until the buzzing in her head subdues. The nightgown is held by a small, beautiful brooch, and fits her pretty good, considering Asgard couldn’t predict its visitors needing wedding wardrobe on their first night on the planet. She shrugs at the mirror, trying not to take it too seriously. Just a funny story to tell when they come back home. Still, that doesn’t sit well with her.

When she comes out of the bathroom Coulson has already changed into his clothes.

“Oh my god what is that?” Daisy asks, pointing, delighted, still a bit drunk, at what he is wearing.

His attire is just as modest as her own, a long, beige linen tunic with red threads matching Daisy’s color, and she likes the bracelets that come with it. It’s alien fashion, she thinks, and even though she’s worn clothes from other planets before, out of necessity, it was never anything this luxurious.

Coulson has pulled the lapels of his clothes high, almost to his throat, and it takes a moment for Daisy to remember he might be wanting to cover his chest, his scar - it’s funny how something that was so vital to her knowledge of Coulson a few years ago (the fact that he had died and been brought back) has faded into something that she sometimes forgets about, because so much has happened, including Coulson almost dying in front of her a couple of times. She wonders if this moment of modesty means being in Asgard is bringing back some memories for Coulson, being with Thor, whose brother was the cause of it all and who was there when it happened.

_Or you could just ask him_ , Daisy tells herself. But it would feel like intruding, and there’s already intrusion enough in the fact that Coulson is being forced to share a bed with her.

“Thor said these are _fit for a king_ ,” Coulson says, patting his tunic admiringly. He mimics Thor’s grandiose tone. It’s a pretty good copy.

“For a king maybe, but for you…” she watches him narrow his eyes at her. “No, no, they look great.”

They both chuckle, and it’s awkward but nice. 

Daisy points at the bed. “So… which side do you prefer? I’m a lady, I’ll let you pick first.”

For a moment she sees some shadow of seriousness, or even sadness, cross over Coulson’s face. It’s gone in a moment, but his new expressions hasn’t recovered all the light it had before.

“I’m not sure I remember which side is mine…” he admits, a little too naked and honest, and Daisy remembers he drank at least as much as she did from that damned sweet Asgardian ale. The confession, still, is the saddest thing she’s ever heard. “Which do _you_ prefer?” he asks.

“The side furthest from the door, normally.”

There’s a pang of half-forgotten grief for a second, when Daisy remembers the last time someone asked her this question. She lied and told Lincoln she didn’t have a favorite side of the bed and he chose the side furthest from the door for himself.

Coulson makes a funny gesture, telling her to go on and take the half next to the window.

She thought this part - getting into bed together - was going to be more awkward than it ends up being.

She and Coulson have been through so much together, in the end this doesn’t feel like such a big thing. And they’ve had plenty of occasions when they had to sleep together, not so long ago, getting back to Earth from space prison. Just not on the same bed.

Coulson makes a funny, contented noise when he pulls the bed covers up to his neck, relishing in the luxury of the fabric.   
“You like this, uh?” she teases him.

Coulson yawns, deep wrinkles appearing around his eyes. “I appreciate the good things in life,” he says.

The bed is pretty amazing, Daisy has to admit - especially compared to the decent but ultimately utilitarian bed at the base, or the even humbler bunks at the Zephyr, where she spends most of her nights anyway. 

“I’m so tired,” she says, all the alcohol and nerves finally ebbing out of her and draining her of energy.

“Me too.”

“And we haven’t even began to discuss an alliance with Asgard, or go through the Inhuman relics they have in here, or-”

“Relax, we’ll get started tomorrow. You are a hero. You defeated these people’s enemies. It’s natural they wanted to throw you a big party first thing,” Coulson says, like it’s all very normal, or like he always knew someday an alien realm would crown her a hero for kicking the Kree out of earth (not just her, there were a lot of people involved, helping, she shouldn’t get the credit).

Daisy breathes deeply, because Coulson is right, there’s time, and she wills herself to stop thinking about all the things she wants to do while in Asgard.

For a moment she imagines being here alone and how much that would make her anxious. Or even being here with Coulson but now having to spend the night alone in a strange room in an alien planet. Thor and company are nice, but they’re not exactly her friends yet. 

Daisy feels guilty for thinking this but, in a way, she is kind of glad she and Coulson made the whole “getting married” mistake. She knows it means nothing, and it’s awkward, but at least now he’s stuck with her and she doesn’t have to do all this alone.

“I’m glad, if I had to accidentally get married on an alien planet due to some weirdass local custom, I’m glad it was you,” she confesses, a little too honest, staring up at the stitched pictures on the fabric above them. She doesn’t know how Coulson is going to take those words, but she thinks it’s important that he knows, how much she appreciates his presence here.

She can see him smile at her from the corner of her eyes.

“And I’m glad you chose me as your plus one for this trip,” he tells her.

“Who else was I going to take?” Daisy admits. “Plus I knew you wanted to see Thor again, and clear the air.”

“Yeah…” Coulson breathes, the mood shifting a bit. Before the party started he and Thor had spent a long time locked in the throne room, catching up. Thor had been glad to see Coulson was alive but he looked mistrustful of the _how_ of it all, which had made Daisy nervous. “Thank you for thinking about that, when you brought me along.”

“You’re welcome,” Daisy tells him. Thank you this, thank you that, they’re a very polite marriage, she decides.

“Ready to sleep?” Coulson asks.

She nods.

He blows the candle on one of the bedside tables, and via some Asgardian magic the stars painted on the ceiling dim too, and all the golden finishes on the furniture stop gleaming and the room is engulfed in a comforting, thin darkness.

Daisy can still see the stars, above them, faraway and light blue.


	2. Chapter 2

His sleep is light, predictably. It’s been years since he’s shared a bed with another person, even if the bed in question is big enough for five people. The warmth of another being next to him on the mattress had become a strange feeling to him.

Part of him is very aware of Daisy’s every move in bed, but in a faraway, muffled way, like background noise. Except it’s not noise - or not only noise (he hears the sheets rustle softly when Daisy moves in tiny, unperceivable movements), it’s the warmth and the touch. Soon he half awakes to find Daisy next to him, her hand gripping his shoulder as if trying to stop him from some imagined, imminent departure. Asleep, Coulson doesn’t mind too much, it’s possible he reaches closer to her to facilitate Daisy’s gesture.

Years ago, when Daisy hadn’t been through so much and when Coulson had had professional authority over her, this might have disturbed him, made him feel he was doing something inappropriate. But Daisy is the Director of SHIELD now and technically Coulson’s boss.

Still, he thought the newness of sleeping next to someone else would keep him awake, but he feels himself drifting off almost as soon as his body touches the (unbelievably luxurious) bed. Maybe he’s tired enough for it to not matter, the travelling between planets, the tension of seeing Thor and having to explain himself. Maybe it’s the drink, the intensely sweet and intensely strong Asgardian liquor, helping him rest. Or maybe it’s even the safety associated with Daisy’s presence - in an abstract sense, for Coulson has never known anyone more powerful, and in the concrete sense that she’s saved him over and over. It’s that thought that lulls him into the next state of unconsciousness,

In his sleep he can also sense Daisy’s anxiety ebb off, like a physical presence slipping out of her body, making the bed lighter even. He had watched her during the banquet, and though Daisy is the world’s foremost expert on pretending she is fine and smiling her way through a party, Coulson knew how important the trip was to her. The Asgardian wanting to celebrate the enemy of an enemy (who had kicked the latter’s ass) had been a good excuse, where Daisy would have been naturally inclined to refuse such honors. She had brought along materials that had belonged to her mother, scraps of information left behind on Earth pertaining to the lineage of Inhumans, but that had been indecipherable for the Inhumans themselves. Asgard hadn’t only come in contact with the Kree repeatedly, it was also known for its knowledge of many species, many planets. _It’s a stab in the dark, I know_ , Daisy had commented before leaving Earth, lest she appeared too hopeful. Coulson agreed it was farfetched, but the more Daisy became the voice of the Inhumans to the rest of the people the more she longed to make sense of such a legacy. On the other hand Coulson believed she did deserve a banquet in her name, so he was happy to come along. 

He just didn’t think that “coming along” would end up with him and Daisy sharing a bed, bound by a ceremony Coulson is still half-convinced is Thor’s idea of a joke. He tries not to let it bother him, especially in his sleep, as his body has decided the whole thing doesn’t bother it.

It works, and he enjoys a light, but peaceful sleep.

For a while anyway.

What wakes him up is the absence of Daisy.

Instantly.

He sits up on the bed, in time to see her reach the door.

“Daisy?”

She doesn’t react, though Coulson is pretty sure he’s spoken loud enough.

She looks around, with a faraway glance and opens the door, slipping out of the room.

“Daisy?” he mutters again, but to the air.

He moves instinctively, leaving the bed and walking after her, at a distance.

The floor is strangely warm under his feet as he walks, even though it’s made of stone, smooth to the touch like marble. Coulson has been in palaces before, though normally just to assess, box and retrieve some suspicious artefact, he has never been a royal guest before. The thought distracts him for a moment, thinking how much of his life he spent doing menial work while having to shut off his extraordinary surroundings, having to look impervious to beauty and awe. 

There is never total darkness in the King’s palace, Coulson has already notice this, with a golden glow emanating from the walls and floor. Daisy moves ahead of him, spectral, and he tries to call her name a couple of times, in loud whispers.

At this point it’s clear to him that she seems to be in an state of sleepwalking, and he keeps following her her, not wanting to disturb her yet in case she has a bad reaction.

But it’s hard, following someone who seems to know where they’re going (another details that makes Coulson’s hair stand on end), while he has never been in this part of the royal palace. And Daisy hasn’t either, but she goes on confidently, going down a set of stairs to a lower floor.

They’re in a basement, and there is water reflected on the walls, liquid light moving across soft dark stone. The path is flanked by narrow pools of water, in constant flux. Coulson worries that Daisy, asleep, might trip and fall, hurt her feet on it.

But she walks in a straight line, and in fact it’s Coulson the one hesitating on stepping ahead. 

He takes a moment to see in what kind of room they are. It reminds him of a modern archaeological museum. There are objects on shelves and in glass cases. Coulson had heard of Asgard’s love of relics and the immense collection of artifacts of all planets and eras resting deep inside the royal palace. Most of them are war-related, this intimidating helmet here, the powerful hilt of a sword in the next case. Vases with drawings of strange animals. It might sound like a stroll down a museum’s hallway but Coulson finds the whole set up slightly creepy. A lot of these probably have magical properties, or would be deathly on Earth.

He walks on, averting his eyes from the items.

He gets glimpses of figures on the walls, painting under the veil of darkness, the stone tattooed with stories, great heroes, great battles, monsters, millennia of history.

And then Daisy stops, like she has come to the end of a calculated route.

When Coulson catches up with her - those last few steps a little more confident on his feet, the drive to get to her side - she doesn’t look like a sleepwalker anymore.

“Daisy?”

She seems distracted, mesmerized, by what’s in front of her. Coulson follows her gaze but notices the blue light before he can make out where it’s coming from.

It’s some kind of jewel - but what kind Coulson has no idea. The gem doesn’t look like anything he’s ever seen on Earth or in the SHIELD files. It’s not polished, but in the rough, yet sophisticated and devastatingly beautiful, enough to mesmerize a mere mortal, Coulson thinks. Is it dangerous? Is it a weapon? It’s placed on a piece of black cloth behind a glass, only making the glittering effect stronger. This is not a trick of the light - the stone is not reflecting any. It’s _creating_ light. 

Daisy looks spectral. In the blue light of the jewel her warm dark skin appears electric gray.

He realizes he’s looked at her like she’s a stranger - a strange thing - while he chased her down the stairs. She looked unlike Daisy, and more like the mythical figures that people the paintings preserved on these walls, out of this world, out of reach.

Suddenly she turns to Coulson. Her eyes are clear and he looks at him for a moment, surprised.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He frowns, confused. Her voice seems clear now, though.

“What do you mean?”

She gives him a worried nod of the head, pointing towards his chest.

Coulson drops his glance and a soft blue light fills his field of vision.

“Oh, this,” he mutters. He hears himself like in a trance.

This is surreal. Some light glow coming off his skin, the royal robe revealing an incomprehensible reflection of the jewel’s glint.

“I’m fine,” Coulson says.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” Daisy asks.

He shakes his head.

Daisy narrows her eyes, reaching out to him. Her hand skims over Coulson’s chest carefully, as if beneath there was a jewel of equal worth to the one that’s shining in front of them now.

“Thor says it’s because I was stabbed with an Infinity Stone, he warned me it might react with some of the relics in the palace.”

He sounds so calm to himself, and he knows if this had happened a while ago he wouldn’t be.

His heart - or whatever remnant of power had been lodged inside it, the muscles growing around it when the GH drug was injected - had played an unexpected part in their battle against the Kree back on Earth, and on one occasion almost cost them their lives by giving away their position, so Coulson is less freaked out about the whole thing than he was a month ago. Also he likes to believe that he is naturally good at rolling with this things. So his heart glows sometimes. Well, it is what it is.

“Oh. Sorry.”

She pulls her hand away.

“What are you doing here?”

She seems confused by the question.

“I was… asleep, I think.”

“I think you were,” Coulson agrees. He holds her by the shoulders for a moment, checking that there’s nothing visibly wrong with her. Her rob is soft under his fingers, like silk, like water slipping through them. “Are you okay?”

She becomes Daisy again, not the strange apparition he followed down here. She moves her shoulder, not to pull away from Coulson but seemingly to chase his touch, press her arm more firmly to his palm. He remembers that until a few minutes ago they were sleeping in the same bed and for the first time he feels awkward about the fact. He drops his hands.

Daisy nods.

“Yeah but… I think this is important,” she says, looking at the jewel again.

“Important?”

“To me. It’s calling me.”

“What do you mean, _calling_?”

He doesn’t mean to sound obtuse but that is worrisome.

“The way the Diviner called to me, the way the Temple called to me.”

“Oh.”

The way I was compelled to carve, Coulson thinks.

That doesn’t help.

But Daisy doesn’t look worried, she looks… excited. Even in the relative dark of the chamber Coulson can see her come alive, suddenly hit with a dose of energy. She looks around and then looks at Coulson, staring directly into his eyes. He can see the familiar resolution there, that part of Daisy that is equal part energizing and scary to him, the way a whole person can become the moment a hand turns into a fist. Her whole demeanor has changed and it’s hard to believe she walked here in a trance, like floating.

“Come on. We need to talk to Thor and Sif,” Daisy says. “Find out what the hell this is.”


End file.
